Adoration
by nlizzette7
Summary: "And each time he touched her, he killed her. And each time they shared a breath, he brought her to life again." / An outtake from Wires. Set on Blair's birthday, between Chapters 5 and 6.


**A/N: **Hi guys. This is a missing moment from my AU Chair series, _Wires_. It can probably be read as a standalone, but it's set in between chapters five and six of that story, on Blair's birthday. A real _Wires _update is coming very soon, but I had a sudden stroke of inspiration to write this and thought I'd share it with you all to make the wait less annoying. Enjoy and please review! I can't wait to see what you guys think. xo, nlizzette7

* * *

**Adoration (A ****_Wires_**** Outtake)**

_So we burst into colors, colors and carousels,_

_Fall head first like paper planes in playground games._

_Next thing we're touching_

_You look at me it's like you hit me with lightning._

_Oh, everybody's starry-eyed._

* * *

"Audrey Hepburn."

The elderly cashier glanced up from her perch behind the P.S. Bookshop's sole counter as the well-dressed boy with a wicked gleam in his eyes drummed an impatient song against the hardwood there. Chuck stroked his jaw as the woman, suited in a wrinkled green blouse, turned to the computer in front of her without any haste. She tapped away with a gentle smile before turning back to him.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Chuck swallowed down a biting remark. _Why couldn't she hurry up? _He scrunched his face at the musty smell and multitude of cobwebs surrounding him. This wasn't exactly the sort of place that _Chuck Bass _preferred to be spotted in when he could be off dallying in a bar getting drunk beyond belief.

He winced at his own lie. Despite how pathetic this all was, there was no place he'd rather be.

"Anything you have on her," Chuck rasped, adjusting the scarf around his neck. "I'm in a hurry." The woman nodded again, eyes crinkling as she got up from her seat. He watched her wince as she grabbed for her cane, which was just out of reach. Chuck frowned quickly before darting forward to steady her, holding her back as he handed her the wooden cane. He waited until she was completely on her feet to release her.

"Such a gentleman," the lady cooed, lightly tapping the lapel of his blazer. Chuck's brows slanted as he pictured Blair in her little plaid skirt, her arms crossed, a smirk on her pink lips, as she'd say, _"Well, Bass, looks like you do have a heart after all." _

He quickly shook the thought away and reassumed his signature brooding expression.

"The book," Chuck insisted with a forced sigh. "I don't have all day."

The woman seemed amused by Chuck's hostile reaction to discomfort and slowly led the way to the biographical section of the little shop. She tapped her chin as she scanned the array of stacked rows until she clapped her hands together and called Chuck closer. He glanced at her, then leaned in to sift through the cluster of books in her wrinkled hands.

"I…" Chuck trailed off, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. He glanced at the thin volumes, hazel eyes darkening as he wondered which Blair would like the best. He imagined her there again, exploring the shelves with him, fingertips tracing over the hardcovers as she whispered in his ear, _"Conflicted over a bunch of dusty books? And here I thought you were Chuck Bass."_ Chuck scowled, running his fingers through his hair until the image of Blair's wide brown eyes vanished from his mind.

"Are you a fan of her work?" The old lady continued to try to make conversation, and Chuck stiffened. This was all supposed to be quick and painless. Why couldn't she just do her job?

"Not exactly."

"Oh, how nice," the woman cooed. "Then it must be a gift." The woman prodded him as she sifted through the pile beside him, narrowing down his options. He dismissed the more generic titles, waving away the biographies with a flick of his hand. They were all unoriginal, bland, nothing that was even slightly comparable to Blair's taste. His jaw twitched and he grew impatient.

"I don't need timelines or cinematic lists that she could print off of IMDB," Chuck said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes for the millionth time. "Bla – " Chuck cleared his throat. "She likes irreplaceable things."

The woman's eyes nearly shone when she cooed, "Your girlfriend."

"_Not _my girlfrie – "

"Hey man," Damien's boyish voice interrupted their exchange as he poked out from the shelf of classics on the opposite end of the store. Chuck glanced up as his mentee balanced two dusty hardcovers in either one of his hands. "There's like ten editions. They're all Shakespeare. It's all the same shit, right?" Damien offered a half-hearted shrug to the counter lady. "Excuse my French."

"Excuse my ill-mannered companion," Chuck drawled. "He just so happens to be the younger brother I neither wanted nor asked for." He raised his eyebrows at Damien who raised his middle finger at Chuck the moment the woman's back was turned.

"Hey, I'm not the one out shopping for a girl," Damien quipped, shrugging before plopping both volumes on the counter. Damien's lips lifted into a goofy grin when he caught sight of the book in Chuck's hands. "Need tips on how to be lovely, man? That's a new one."

Chuck and the older woman had indeed narrowed down his selections to a final option – a crisp white paperback with a simple print of Audrey herself on the cover. Chuck's eyes raked over the script. _How to be Lovely: The Audrey Hepburn Way of Life_. It was silly, to make a big spectacle over such an inconsequential object. He was Chuck _Bass_ – a boy who'd had his share of hazy, extravagant nights, spilling thousand dollar sips of liquors across fine carpets, crystals that glistened like his suave shell, diamonds as hollow as his heart. He should have been used to winning over the world with his bottomless wallet, but this…this was something more. The thin book was suddenly heavy in his palms, and a foreign feeling quaked through him.

Self-consciousness.

The idea of it threw him for a moment. Chuck had never been the type to second-guess himself. He'd never _needed _to before Blair. And now here he was, a thousand scenarios filtering through his muddled mind. Blair hating it, Blair laughing at it…

As if the woman could read his mind, she suddenly smiled up at him, eyes crinkling into a hundred intricate lines across her skin. She perched forward, placing her hand on his arm yet again. "She's going to love it." _She's going to love you. _Chuck blinked, hazel eyes swimming with conflict. But before he could part his lips to answer, the lady shuffled over to the counter and began clicking away at the ancient cash register while tucking his purchase into a rose pink bag.

Chuck swiped a frustrated hand over his jaw. This was what he got for being thoughtful.

"Please," Chuck cut in, pulling his credit card as he joined Damien by the line in front. "Do you realize who you're talking to?" He was suddenly anxious to get back, eager to get this gesture over with, to call the attention away from his misstep into lame, lovesick emotions. "And as laughable as it is to pretend that you're purchasing Shakespeare out of your own self-interest…" Chuck smirked, shaking his head. "It's transparent. Should we pick up some tights while we're down here to prepare for your theatrical debut?"

"Funny," Damien murmured. He slapped down his own card, and Chuck turned up the corner of his lips as a final farewell to the elderly lady. She winked, ushering both boys out of the shop and into the dwindling twilight that set a pink glow across the town square – a small cluster of ritzy little businesses that catered exactly to the privileged boarding students residing nearby. Damien shrugged off his blazer, and Chuck tucked the book into his suit jacket as they commenced the short walk back to their dormitories.

"So…" Damien yawned, slinging the bag of aged texts over his shoulder. "Think she'll like it?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to elaborate."

"Blair," Damien clarified, eyeing the rectangular outline by the lapel of Chuck's jacket.

"What about Blair?" Chuck droned, attempting a bored tone. His eyes went black, utterly emotionless as they walked on in silence. Finally, Damien sighed, kicking up a pile of rocks as they climbed the gravel pathway near Briar's main entrance.

"Fine," Damien huffed. "Let's pretend like Chuck Bass didn't just go out of his way to buy a girl's birthday present." Chuck narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Damien surfaced with a cigarette before they headed inside, throwing back a few drags, smoke spilling from his lips as he offered one to Chuck and laughed. "As long as we agree not to discuss the tights ever again." Damien rolled his eyes, stomping out the dimming flame with the heel of his shoe. "Fucking Shakespeare."

:::

"Jenny Humphrey."

The voice was sly, devilish even. Jenny's face immediately burned scarlet, a natural reaction to being the object of _anyone's_ attention, even for a quick moment. When she glanced up, Chuck's grin was cool, his eyes were calculating. Of course, she recognized that look. She saw it on Blair's face nearly everyday.

"Hi…Chuck," Jenny coughed, disappointed when Damien didn't surface behind him. Her blue eyes went wide when Chuck took a seat beside her in the courtyard. The plastic watch wrapped around her tiny wrist warned that they were nearing curfew, and Jenny grew anxious. What did Chuck want with her? Right _now_?

"A favor." It was as if he could read her mind when he drawled the two words.

"A favor…" Jenny echoed, ever doubtful. "What do you…I mean…"

"Jesus, Humphrey," Chuck smirked. "I won't bite." His smile grew wider as his eyes went unfocused for a moment. "At least, not you." Jenny cringed at the unwelcomed imagery that flooded her mind. That _wasn't _how she wanted to picture Blair, no matter how close they were getting. She scrambled for a reason to excuse herself from Chuck's leering, but it was unnecessary. He was already getting down to business, poised to stand from the bench once again.

"I need a messenger," Chuck explained.

Jenny frowned. "For…"

"This," Chuck cut in, surfacing with a small pink package from his suit jacket. He placed it in Jenny's lap unceremoniously, and the blonde took it in her hands. "I need you to leave it for Blair while she's sleeping."

Jenny bit down on her lip as she traced the edges of the package. "For Blair…" She blinked, remembering how excited Blair had seemed when they had discussed her seventeenth birthday. Of course, excited for Blair only meant a few seconds of uninhibited squealing before she went back into bitch mode. Jenny put two and two together, then gasped in realization. "Oh…_oh_. Chuck, this is so swee – "

"Try not to be seen," Chuck cut in, standing from the bench. "And try not to screw it up…" Chuck trailed off, lips pursing as he searched for an ounce of politeness within him. "Please."

Jenny fought back a smile. "Sure, Chuck."

:::

The next morning, there was a little saunter in Blair's step when she made her way to first period study hall. Her freshly rolled curls bounced around her pink cheeks, brushing her shoulder blades. Her new Balenciaga was bright red, a gorgeous gift that had been mailed in from Harold, postmarked from a small villa in the corner of France. The card was signed by two men, her father's familiar clean print and an unfamiliar loopy flourish right beside it. Blair chose to ignore the second.

Nestled in her new purse was the silk pouch filled with Chanel toiletries from her mother – sans a proper card there – and some of the trinkets that Diana and Jenny had included in their grand gift bag to Blair. Of course, Diana had provided the expensive baubles while Jenny's little additions were all handmade, but the sentiment warmed Blair's heart in a way that she hadn't at all expected. And then, of course, there was a little white paperback resting at the very bottom of the gold lining inside. She'd found it on the pillow beside the one she usually slept on, in the space that was always empty when she woke in the mornings. (Although lately, she'd been having dreams of waking up to stormy hazel eyes, her cheek nuzzled against the line of his jaw…)

When she found the book, she had immediately interrogated Jenny on the matter, but that doe-eyed traitor had played innocent before practically running for the door in her nightgown. Blair was left to roll her eyes and examine the card inside the front cover. _We all need a fix of our adoration. – C_

What did _that _mean? God, that Basstard was so cryptic. She couldn't be presumptuous with Chuck, not like she had always been with Nate. Her ex-boyfriend and his simple-minded words could always be twisted and manipulated to her liking, but…

Blair bit down on her lip, allowing herself a moment of misplaced romanticism. Did he…adore her?

She let out a small smile as she thought about it now, lifting her chin when she was greeted by another round of birthday wishes from a group of adoring sophomores. Her lips, painted red in Chanel's _Fire_, curled into the wicked queen's signature smile as her heels clicked down the final corridor that led to the main hall.

"Miss Waldorf." The Warden, as most students preferred to call the stony woman that sat the morning shift at study hall, eyed Blair's extravagant birthday gifts with disdain. In one hand, Blair juggled a helium balloon from Eric and a pretty little rose from Ethan. She hitched her bag over her shoulder as she shot the woman a pinched smile and signed in for her weekly tutoring session with a little flourish. It was a total drag to explain elementary concepts to underclassmen who wasted time oogling her for a straight hour. But the sacrifice was well worth it. In less than a year, she'd be submitting her application to Yale, sitting opposite of the dean, chirping, _"I was dedicated to those sessions. I even worked on my birthday."_

"Table Twenty-Seven, Miss Waldorf," The Warden sighed in an empty monotone. "By the back."

Blair let out a breath as she made her way for the back of the nearly empty room. Brown arches lined the walls, floor-length windows letting in only thin streams of light. There were shadows draped across the back row, and she could barely make out the features of the boy sitting behind her assigned table. Each workstation was half-shielded by its own little wooden cubicle, and when she found hers, she caught a whiff of cigar smoke, apple wood, and –

Blair narrowed her eyes.

Oh, _no_.

"What are _you _doing here, Chuck?" Blair slammed her textbooks down on the table for emphasis, drawing an amused smirk from her own personal devil. She bit down on her lip to stable herself, prying her eyes away from his handsome black blazer, the silky blue tie stylishly loosened around his neck.

"Purely my love of learning," he stated, tapping his pen on the desk for emphasis. Blair swallowed when his rough fingers skimmed her upper thigh, then yanked her behind the cubicle with him. He patted the empty seat at his side, but Blair drew back in suspicion.

"Try again, Bass."

"I'm having some trouble with this _material_," he glanced down at his textbook but fingered the fabric of her skirt as he spoke. "I was hoping that you'd be able to do the job."

"I'm sure that another tutor can attend to your needs," Blair quipped, cocking her head to the side. It was so easy to fall into this back and forth with Chuck. Much too easy.

"I highly doubt that," Chuck argued, drawing a gasp from Blair when his thumb found the lace of her La Perla's underneath her skirt. "Besides, I'm quite the _visual _learner, and…" Chuck trailed off, eyes raking over her uniform, the pretty lace slip that she'd purposefully let show under her plaid skirt.

"Chuck…"

"Tick tock, Miss Waldorf," Chuck sighed, giving her thigh a squeeze before releasing her altogether. "Wouldn't want Yale to find out that you're neglecting your academic duties." He held her gaze, and Blair forgot where they were for a moment, what day it was. He raised his eyebrows, licked his full, bottom lip. _Damn him._

"Delinquent," was Blair's only comment when she sat at his side, then scooted as far away from him as possible behind the cubicle. At the front desk, The Warden was hardly paying them any attention as she made angry red marks on a stack of term papers. She could _feel_ Chuck smiling at her with that smug victorious grin as she opened her books and heaved a sigh. "Stop staring at me." Blair pursed her lips, drawing two pencils from her little Chanel pouch. "Bass, I mean it. Stop – " When her eyes flitted to his, she was struck breathless by the expression she found etched into his features. His eyes were the lightest she'd ever seen as Chuck leaned into her, his forearm brushing hers, his knuckle just barely brushing her finger.

"Feel free to start whenever you please," Chuck murmured, tracing a line across her wrist. "I have all day."

Blair snapped out of her trance, gasping when her skin tingled long after he released her. "Well, _I_ don't." Blair tucked a curl behind her ear and struggled to stay focused. "Just because you and I are…" Blair trailed off, much to Chuck's amusement. "It doesn't matter. This _meeting _is strictly academic."

"Yes," Chuck said, leaning back in his chair. "And I plan on exploring the subject – " Chuck paused, and he glanced down at the dip of her collared shirt, the peek of red lace there too. "Thoroughly."

Ugh.

Nearly a half hour later, Blair's cheeks were flushed with a red that wouldn't drain from her face. It was impossible to even crack open her special edition of _Hamlet _when Chuck was right there – _everywhere_, really. He kept whispering dirty innuendos in her ear, "accidentally" touching her again and again. He was just making a reference to all of the things they could do on that very table when –

"_Enough_, Chuck," Blair hissed, turning to fan herself out of his sight. "The themes of _Hamlet_." She nodded to herself, jerking away from him. "Let's start with…"

"Lust," Chuck tried. This time, his hand came to cup her knee, making a speedy assent to the patch of skin just before her panties. Blair closed her eyes, breathing out through her nose. Her legs parted by a fraction of an inch, and she hated herself for it. "There's something…dangerously seductive about being driven to madness. Isn't there? Ophelia was drawn into the dark, and she only delved in _deeper_." Blair gasped when his thick fingers came to shove fabric aside, to thrust into her wet heat. Blair fought to keep her eyes open, but she was lost in a muddle of emotions – the fear of getting caught, the desire to let him take her right there and then, and –

"You're so wet, Blair."

And –

"So tight."

_Adoration._

Chuck Bass of all people had found the answer. Blair pitched forward, brushed her thigh against his arm, held onto his other hand as he whispered wonderfully inappropriate things into her ear. To any casual observer, it would seem as if though they were intently focused on their schoolwork. Chuck moved into her slowly, pressing his palm against her swollen clit. Blair bit her lip, rolling her hips once, a broken movement that Chuck caught instantly.

"And Hamlet," Chuck said, his voice deep with desire. "Couldn't resist her. Such curiosity and willingness…Things that she only gave to him. Things she only allowed _him_ to see."

"Oh, _God_." She gripped his arm, quietly moaned through pinched lips again and again.

"Now, Waldorf. You might have to brush up on your tutoring skills," he chuckled, curling his finger into her, finding the point of pleasure that would send her spiraling into incoherency. "Hamlet wasn't exactly a religious text."

"_Chuck_." The moan was louder than she intended, and Chuck ducked her further behind the cubicle. He was determined to finish this – he wanted her to finish right then and there more than he'd ever wanted anything else. He held her hand, brushed locks of hair from her cheek as her walls clenched around his fingers and she came as silently as she could. She stiffened in her seat, shuddering as her face dropped and her cheek brushed his shoulder.

They sat in silence for a moment, staring down at their untouched textbooks on Shakespearean analysis. Chuck's fingers slipped from between her legs, and she watched as he brought them to his lips.

"I can't…" Blair let out a breath, sitting back to glare up at the ceiling. "I can't _believe _you."

"Hm," Chuck shrugged. "Is this the part in which we pretend that you're an innocent who's just been taken advantage of by the big bad Bass?" He rolled his eyes. "That spiel is growing a little tiresome, Waldorf."

"You're an ass," Blair hissed, gathering her books into a sloppy pile. She untied the helium balloon from her chair and went to snatch her rose from the table. But, of course, Chuck grabbed it first, glowering as he lifted the bulb to his nose.

"Tell me," Chuck drawled, "Does he know that you prefer peonies?" He raised his eyebrows. "Does he know that you prefer…" Chuck trailed off, ever suggestive. Blair frowned, staring down at the rose.

"If this is your way of getting me to acknowledge the present you left me, I – "

"If by present, you're referring the gift I just gave you five minutes ago, you're welcome," Chuck cut in abruptly. He averted his gaze, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I'd be glad to act out a continuation later on if you'd just alter the terms of our agreement." Blair was already shaking her head as Chuck continued, "There's just one minor detail standing in the way of the _greatest _pleasure you've ever experienced."

"If by minor detail, you mean my _virginity_ – " Blair cut off, realizing that her voice was much too loud for the echoing hall. She cut a quick glance at The Warden, who was now peering at them curiously. Blair shot her a fake smile before spinning around. "That just proves how _undeserving_ and insensitive you are."

Chuck's grin faded when he realized just how serious she was. He tried to ease the tension, tried to backpedal. "Blair – "

"_No_, Chuck." Blair took the rose from him and swallowed. "I'm not the one pretending here."

He knew what she wanted. He was treading the fine line between he and pussy-whipped boys like Nate. He wasn't the boyfriend who would sweep her off her feet. Without the glitz and glamour of the Upper East Side in his hands, he couldn't even cloak his darkness with diamonds.

"I suppose I'll have to find a less complicated way to relieve myself," Chuck finally got out, failing to look away in time to miss the hurt that touched Blair's features. His mouth went stale. But the pain-stricken cringe was gone in the next moment, and her lips set into a straight line. Light streamed in from the windows again, setting her amber eyes aflame.

"Thanks for wasting my time, Bass," Blair said. He watched as she reached into her purse and surfaced with a thin white book. Chuck flinched when it fell from her hand and skidded across the table.

And even Audrey seemed to be glaring at him in disgust.

:::

"B, come on! The movie's starting."

Although the call came from the next room, the adjoining part of the student lounge where a stark white projection screen was mounted onto the wall opposite a cluster of lounge chairs and a miniature snack bar, Diana's voice seemed much farther away. But Blair sat alone in a beige shift dress, curls piled atop her head in an intricate up-do, her favorite red gloss spread over her lips.

"Coming," Blair called back, her voice just over a whisper. Surrounding her was a storm of wrapping paper, discarded gift bags, and – Blair shut her eyes – cake. She swallowed down her third or fourth flute of the rose champagne they'd snuck in just for the festivities. Her eyes were trained on the empty plate in front of her, the grand slice of lemon crème that she'd so artfully dodged while her new crowd had partied and chatted all around her. She should have been ecstatic, should have been thoroughly enjoying her tipsiness, but –

Blair's mind was clouded again, and her heart raced with a panic that she knew far too well. She kept picturing Nate and Serena casually mentioning her birthday before going off to get drunk before falling all over each other. And then those images were replaced by Chuck's words. _A less complicated way to relieve himself. _

Was he really all that different from Nate – a boy who'd grown tired of treading through the tangle of thread that guarded her heart? A boy who'd opted to find a girl as transparent as Serena van der Woodsen instead? What version of the blonde was Chuck pawing at right then?

Blair dumped the slice onto her plate, letting crumbs scatter across the satin tablecloth. This was more than a feeling – it was an impulse. She could not destroy others. She could only manage to destroy herself. But she found that one could only break and mend a number of times before the pieces began to fall loose.

She gripped the handle of her fork and stabbed it through the slice.

"Blair."

Chuck's voice always managed to surprise her, despite the number of times she'd heard it. He was standing there, by the entrance of the room, still wearing his uniform blazer over suit pants. She dropped her fork, glanced at the adjoining room, the lights of a movie flashing in the dark, then stared back at Chuck.

"What are you doing here?" Blair let out an empty laugh. "Already done with your entertainment for the night? Has your reputable stamina died off already?" She didn't know what she expected from the accusation. Blair waited for a rebuttal, waited for another fight. He would burn her, and she would burn back. He would break her, and she would fix herself.

But as she waited, it never came. Chuck was suddenly _there_, right beside her in their little makeshift party room, fingers tangling in her hair, drawing her to him with one sharp pull. Blair barely had a moment to breathe before he captured her lips with his, finding the small of her back with his other hand. She closed her eyes, tiny hands curling around the lapels of his blazer, holding on as he brought her higher than sexual desperation, than the thrill of hooking up in dark corners. This kiss was slow, greedless. His tongue swept across her bottom lip, his fingers moved across the line of her jaw, down to her collarbone, then farther below. Blair opened her mouth just slightly, and he moaned.

She couldn't breathe, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. The kiss was never-ending, and she might have been drowning, but he was also her anchor. And each time he touched her, he killed her.

And each time they shared a breath, he brought her to life again.

When they finally broke away, Blair brought her fingers up to touch her swollen lips. Chuck looked at her in a way that she could never quite understand, and when she pulled away, she realized that he'd left something in her hands. A book. _That _book. She glanced down and Audrey stared back up at her, smiling this time.

"Adoration," Chuck murmured, holding her gaze for another moment. Blair frowned, not understanding. He cupped her face with one hand, and Blair was vaguely aware of Diana calling her name again, of Damien telling a bad joke, of which the punch line was muffled by the wall separating the two rooms. Chuck watched her. "It wasn't only lust that drove Hamlet in his decision to draw Ophelia closer. It was more. There was this..."

"Adoration," Blair echoed.

"Adoration," Chuck said again.

"This movie is starting with or without you, B," Diana sighed. On cue, the enchanting tune of _Moon River _filled the room and the spell was broken. Chuck's hand dropped from her face, and Blair shivered from the loss of contact.

"Tiffany's," Chuck smirked. "How very unpredictable of you, Waldorf."

She slapped his chest a bit harder than she would have if she'd only been joking around, but he only caught her wrist and slid his hand down to pinch her waist before following her in to join the others. The room was dark when they stumbled through the small, tipsy crowd, and they couldn't see Chuck when he hooked his finger through a loop at the lower back of Blair's dress, or Blair's small grin when they celebrated her birthday more privately at the very back of the room. His touch sizzled now, but it didn't burn.

Her heartbeat slowed now, but she barely noticed.

_Fin._


End file.
